


from gold

by judlane



Series: neil is sappy [7]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, brief allusions to non consensual sex and torture, but everything else is neil being obsessed with andrew per usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judlane/pseuds/judlane
Summary: Neil can’t take his eyes off of Andrew.They’re on the back porch, beer between their bare feet and paper plates in their laps. A pack of cigarettes are tucked in Andrew’s dark buttoned up shirt’s pocket, faded jeans rolled up at the hems because they’re a tad too large, and, for once, his black bands discarded.





	

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know if there are any mistakes! i'm sleep deprived studying for my midterms so i have no doubt there are some!!  
> the title is from from gold by novo amor (i played this song on repeat and ngl it made me a lil emotion when i was writing)  
> edit: i changed the summary bc i felt iffy about it!

Neil can’t take his eyes off of Andrew.

They’re on the back porch, beer between their bare feet and paper plates in their laps. A pack of cigarettes are tucked in Andrew’s dark buttoned up shirt’s pocket, faded jeans rolled up at the hems because they’re a tad too large, and, for once, his black bands discarded. It’s too muggy for layers and there’s no need for them in the privacy of the Columbia house during the summer. He doesn’t look like himself, not at all, but Neil can’t help the thrill of seeing him so… loose. Laidback. Calm.

The bridge of Andrew’s nose is flushed a faint pink from the sun, his freckles a littler darker than they were before, and blonde hair longer. It curls around his ears and at the nape of his neck, even more so with the humidity. Cicadas whir loudly in the distance and grasshoppers click insistently as the sun begins to set, bathing everything in a soft orange and red light.

“The fuck are you looking at?" Andrew growls from around a bite of his hamburger.

Andrew had managed to wrangle the otherwise abandoned grill into cooking burgers while Neil had cut potatoes into wedges and then attempted to fry them on the stove. After his third time getting popped by the grease, Neil had let Andrew take over the entire process, and instead watched contently from a safe distance.

“Mother _fucker,_ ” Andrew had snarled, whacking at his forearm when a stray drop caught him like someone warding off mosquitoes.

Neil had snorted and then laughed loud when Andrew shot him a murderous look.

Despite burning the burgers after getting caught up in dodging grease and soft kisses, the food was probably the best Neil had eaten in a while.

Neil shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly, smirk playing on his lips, and takes a sip of his beer. Andrew holds out his hands as he chews on another micro-sized bite. His burger is ripped to all hell, nearly twenty pieces scattered among divided fries.

“You have your own, you know,” Neil says but hands him the beer anyways.

Andrew doesn’t break eye contact as he takes a swig and hands it back. His reply is lost as he shoves another piece of his burger into his mouth.

They sit in comfortable silence as the light fades, only broken by calling birds and frogs croaking. When the mosquitoes get to be too much, Andrew disappears inside to get the repellent and when he sits back down in the wooden chair, he reaches over the small space and takes Neil’s hand in his own.

Neil runs his thumb over Andrew’s large knuckles and circles his callouses. They don’t speak for a long time, just content to hold hands and listen to the night creatures come alive.

Sitting in a wooden chair is only comfortable for so long, however, so they’re about to shuffle inside when Neil sees it.

A flickering glow just beyond the porch light darts through the air, reigniting a few feet away, and then darkening just as quickly. Neil tugs Andrew to a stop.

“Fireflies,” he says in wonderment.

Honestly, in all his nights on the run, Neil had never seen fireflies. He heard about them from other schoolkids or cheesy stories, but no matter how hard he had squinted into the darkness, it had stayed dark. Once, when he had cracked his head and him and his mother were squatting in an abandoned house, he imagined the lights dancing in front of his eyes were fireflies. His mother had scoffed and told him to _focus_ and _stem_ the _blood_.

There are more lights now, here and then there, glowing brightly before disappearing. They’re above the trees and just above the ground and everywhere in between. For a startling moment, they look like the glowing end of a dashboard lighter and Neil can’t help but shrink back.

Andrew suddenly releases Neil’s hand and steps inside. Neil shoots one last glance at the dancing lights, willing himself to not be scared, to see them for what they are, to not let his past ruin even this for him.

The screen door swings open again before Neil can follow him inside and Andrew appears, a mason jar in his hands.

He eyes Neil with a blank look. “Come on.”

Andrew steps off the porch and into the grass, out of reach of the porch light. The fireflies’ glow makes his hair an eerie dark gold. He looks like something out of a fairy tale. His broad shoulders flex as he pulls the lid off the mason, his usually sharp features softened by the darkness.

Neil trails after him. 

“They’re not that fast, so you can usually catch them with your hands. They don’t bite,” Andrew tells him as he holds up the jar. “Put them in here when you’re done.”

Neil never thought he would be chasing fireflies around in the dark while Andrew smoked a cigarette and quipped insults when Neil came up empty-handed, but here he was. The darkness made it hard to spot a firefly until it lit up, and even then it was more of guessing where they were the next second. Neil more often than not closed his hands on empty air, but then a soft light would flutter just a few feet away and he was on the hunt again. A part of him wishes Andrew would join in. But then he imagines Andrew, cigarette hanging on his lips, blankfaced as he tries to wrangle some fireflies into a jar and he laughs, loud and clear in the night air.

The grass beneath his feet is starting to cool as dew settles and he's shivering a little, but as his collection in the mason jar grew, he couldn’t find himself to care. The cold, however, seemed to get to Andrew because after Neil’s tenth firefly he screws the jar completely shut and strides back inside the house.

Andrew’s feet thud on the staircase up to their (Neil’s stomach still swoops to the thought of that) room and Neil hurries after him, feet slipping a little on the wood.

“I’ve never seen fireflies before,” Neil admits as he steps inside their room. Andrew sets the jar on the bedside table and uses the carpet to wipe his feet off.

“I gathered from the dumb look on your face,” Andrew responds.

“I was scared at first. They kind of looked like-” Neil’s voice tapers off, like the word is stuck on the back off his throat. Andrew sits down on the bed and shoots him a look. Neil sits down beside him.

He watches the bugs flicker inside the glass, buzzing faintly. They make the room dance with their frantic light and Andrew’s cheekbones sharper.

It’s quiet for a long moment, and then Andrew leans back slowly on his hands, shoulders pushed forward. He stares hard at the far wall before finally at the jar.

“I used to catch them with Cass,” Andrew says.

Neil can picture it - a smaller Andrew. Thinner, more fragile in a different sense. Like a bird’s bones, light and easily snapped. Running around the backyard not unlike Neil had been doing earlier, the glow shafting through the cracks in his fingers.

Andrew lights another cigarette and inhales deeply.

A truth for a truth.

“I remember when I was in school, when I was younger. It wasn’t that long after we had first escaped, and I made some new friends in my class. This boy told me that fireflies are meant to guide lost people back home. Ever since, I would look for them. I knew it was stupid and my mom would probably have my head if she knew I was looking for fireflies instead of potential threats, but I couldn’t help it.”

Neil can feel Andrew’s eyes digging into the side of his face but he focuses in on the bugs inside the jar.

It was a long moment before Andrew puts out his cigarette and begins to get ready for bed. Neil follows his lead, silently, shucking off his shorts and switching out for one of Andrew’s shirts. He likes how they make him feel at night, the neckline broader and the shoulders droopy. Whereas it was tight on Andrew, Neil was swallowed up by it.

Neil is the first one on the bed. He lays on his side so he can see the glow of the fireflies and doesn’t even turn when Andrew slides in behind him.

He wonders what it would have been like to have seen the fireflies when he had been with his mom. What she would have said. Would she had ignored them? Or in the rare moments of comfort, would she had watched them with him, maybe told him a few stories.

“If you keep fireflies in a jar overnight, one wish you want is granted.”

Neil rolls over to face Andrew. He’s not looking at him. There’s a tenseness in his form that makes Neil frown. And then he thinks about what Andrew would have wished for, when he was living under Cass’s roof. The thought makes his stomach turn.

“Can you only do it once?” Neil asks.

Andrew slowly looks at him, like it’s painful. “What?”

“Can you only wish on the fireflies once or do you get a wish each time?”

“I never wished, so how I would know?”

Neil had never asked if Andrew had wished, but the denial is an admittance in itself. He doesn’t push the subject farther and instead lets himself relax in the smell of tobacco and fresh sheets. A thumb slowly rubs across his cheekbone, fingers at his temple and then into this hair.

“I don’t need to wish either,” Neil murmurs.

Andrew grunts in reply and his hand slides down to his jaw. He traces the shell of Neil’s ear lightly and then rubs just behind it. Neil burrows closer and sighs.

“Where do you think they’re trying to take you?”

Neil opens his eyes and looks at Andrew. The glow from the fireflies don’t quite reach his face but they make his hair a ruddy gold.

“You said the fireflies guide lost people back home.”

Neil smiles wide and covers Andrew’s hand with his own.

“I’m not lost.”

A muscle in Andrew’s jaw twitches and then he’s leaning closer, slow enough that Neil can push him away if he wants, and kisses him. He rubs his lips across Neil’s side to side, before tugging on his bottom lip gently and then licks his way inside. It’s a slow kiss, all languid and soft sighs and Andrew’s hands at his jaw, his hair, his neck.

Neil’s heart swells when, after a long round of kissing, Andrew doesn’t try to distance himself from where he’s pressed up against Neil. He just keeps his hand on Neil’s jaw, thumbing the raised knife scars and closes his eyes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tbh: i dont know if fireflies can bite bc whenever i ran around with em they never did but who knows! also, the fireflies guiding people home/granting wishes are real things that i was told when i was younger but if you've heard different pls let me know!!!!!  
> the 'neil is sappy' series is gonna go on a short break bc i've had requests for my juvie!andreil fic so be on the lookout for that! <3  
> thank you for reading!  
> catch ur boy on [tumblr](http://sevenyearsdead.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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